Angel of Death
by HypoVampire
Summary: Set after the Chandelier Crash, with the Opera Populaire restored and the Phantom back, a series of murders take place as Raoul is being targeted. A story of love gone wrong, betrayal, murder and assassins.
1. Death and Destruction

**I do not own the story Phantom of the Opera or any of the characters except my OCs (Azrael and Abaddon). This is my first fanfic so hope it works out fine :) **

**Death and Destruction **

The sun was setting, the blood red sky darkened with each minute. The victim screamed desperately as the knife bit into his face, drawing long cuts down his face. The assassin savoured the agonising screams and cruelly admired his bloody work of art. Thankfully the screams were cut short by a whisper of a blade as the a throwing knife lodged itself in his throat. Abaddon looked up from his dead victim in disappointment, he was hoping to torture him for longer. Dislodging the knife, he examined the blade and recognised it immediately: Azrael. He could feel the stare from those freakish eyes on his back and he could feel the rage within himself swell up. In a flash, he threw the knife at the shadow hidden in the shadows. A pale and scarred hand caught it expertly, and Azrael stepped out of the shadows. The eyes of the two assassins locked in a look of pure hatred for a moment before each disappearing into the darkness.

Azrael clenched his fists as the anger within him built up. Abaddon,that arrogant bastard, he had everything in life, part of a well-respected and rich family, well built body and a handsome face that would just make girls swoon. He presumed that Abaddon was a run-away rebel had just became an assassin for the sheer thrill of killing. His sick tortures is going to get himself caught then bring down all the others with him. It didn't really matter, there were only a few left anyways. Most of them just take part in thievery and other petty crime; they considered assassination too dangerous. Luckily no one knew anyone's real names. Abaddon and Azrael were names they had received after becoming assassins. Azrael never knew his real name so the name Azrael stuck; the Angel of Death. Abaddon just left his past completely behind and embraced his new name Abaddon; the Angel of Destruction.

Azrael was a terrifying sight. His right eye was a dark brown, so dark it was like a black orb. On his left eye, he wore an eye patch hiding his left eye which as was bright red, like the colour of blood; a burning ball of fire. He wore an eye patch over his left eye to hide it and his absolute worst feature; his scars. The eye patch only partially covered the long and thin scars which snaked across the left side of his face like veins.

_The knife cutting slowly across his skin, sending burning agony down his face. He felt the warm and sticky blood trickling down his face like tears. He felt a hand on his mouth muffling his struggling screams. He heard that maniacal laugh as he helplessly tried to escape the older boy's clutches. Abaddon sneered, waving the knife around "You are pathetically weak, and if you mess with me, I'll finish the rest of the art work which I started..." _

If only he was stronger and more skilled, if only he wasn't so helpless then. If they never came to the orphanage, he might actually have a decent life. Taking deep breaths, Azrael composed himself. What's done is done, there is no going back, only forward. He had past the point of no return.

Azrael reread the letter which had completely crumpled in his clenched fists. _To the Angel of Death Since the best member of your service is currently unavailable, I am asking you to do the deed. You will be paid greatly with half before and half after. If interested, meet me at the entrance at exactly midnight. I will be dressed in black. Do not let anyone see you. I wouldn't advise you to reject this offer, this may be the last one you receive in a while. _Of course, the letter was unsigned, Azrael sighed, the victim will probably turn out to be nobody of any importance and he will be payed a tiny amount which most will go to the leader anyways, regardless, he has to agree. He moved silently through the shadows and let the darkness envelope him as he waited.

At the first chime of midnight, a figure dressed in a black cloak with a hood emerged from the Opera and motioned silently for Azrael to follow. The figure led him to the side of the Opera where much to Azrael's surprise, opened up a secret passage. Following the black silhouette down the secret passage and through a series of twisting passages, Azrael ended up in a small chamber.

"I was told Azrael had two different eye colours, I need proof of identity" commanded the voice from under the hood. It was without a doubt that is was a female speaking and he couldn't help notice the nervousness.

Azrael sighed and removed his hood unwillingly. "If I have to..." he muttered and removed his eye patch and looked straight at the figure with his eyes. He heard the figure give a sharp intake of breath as she gasp at the horrific disfigurement.

"Yep, it's pretty horrible"

The figure composed herself and spoke "As you have shown up, you must be interested in your new target. He is a very important person in the Opera Populaire. He is constantly surrounded by many people and will be hard for you to strike. I'm not underestimating your ability but I'm warning you, your target will be very hard to get."

Azrael rolled his eyes, at his new customer's naivety.

"You also will strike when I say and how I say with no questions asked, his death will be very controversial so I do not want his blood on my hands. It may take some time before the task if complete so I suggest you take a job here at the Opera Populaire to observe his movements. I can make arrangement for you to be a stagehand since there is a few vacant positions since most of them has quit when Joseph Buquet was killed by ..." She trailed off and stopped almost as disturbed by memories.

"By...?" Azrael asked

"Never mind" Although her face was hidden by the hood, her could feel her eyes asking for a reply.

"You obviously haven't dealt with assassins before. We accept no matter what the terms are. We will complete task no matter how long or difficult. We withdraw if we feel we are in danger of death.' Azrael replied. "Who is this target you're speaking off?"

She paused and then spoke in a sad voice "Raoul, the Viscount de Chagny"

"Fine, I'll apply for the stagehand job tomorrow".

With the deal made ,the mysterious woman begin leading him out of the secret chamber. On the way out of the secret passage way, she hesitated then said "I didn't gasp because your disfigurement was horrific, it was because you remind me of someone..." She trailed off again and seemed to be staring into the empty air.

Azrael just nodded in confusion and left promptly. Replacing his eyepatch and hood, he disappeared into the night.

**Yay! Finished my first chapter of my first fanfic. Please review!**


	2. The Red Rose with the Black Ribbon

**The Usual- i Don't own Phantom of the Opera and its characters except my OCs. Enjoy :) **

**The Red Rose with the Black Ribbon **

The sky was a crimson rose in bloom laced with black streaks of the approaching night. _The solitary red rose with the black ribbon tied around the elegant stem discarded onto the cold and snow covered stone floor. _Erik attempted to forget the painful memories of the past, but failed; everything reminded him of her and her rejection.

It had been a busy day at the Opera Populaire. Last practice before their first opera since the restoration meant that everyone was determined for perfection. What didn't help was the disturbing news of a mutilated murder victim in the streets, found not far from the opera. From eavesdropping on the gossip,Erik heard that the killer had tortured the victim by before death before strangely killing him with a quick blow to the throat. Everyone was hysterical, and running around madly screaming like banshees especially the ballet girls. It was complete chaos, nevertheless practice still continued as normal, just prolonged.

Despite no one helping, the new stagehand managed quite well. Erik had observed the silent and stealthy young man fiddling around with the ropes and quickly getting the hang of it. He was surprisingly fast and quiet compared to the others who were like a stampede of elephants. It was unusual that everyone was avoiding him but he didn't seem to mind. He seemed quite happy to hide in the shadows ,observing everything and everyone like a hawk with his abnormally dark eye. He wore an eye patch over the left eye, probably in a an accident which would explain the scars. Young boys, so careless these days.

A black carriage stopped in front Opera Populaire, Erik glared at the figure with a look of hatred; that idiot Raoul was back. Yelling Christine's name, Raoul drunkly staggered into the Opera Populaire with a beer bottle in his hand. Luckily everyone had left and no body remained to witness the grouchy viscount's tantrum. Christine and Raoul both kept up the 'happy couple' image in front of everyone, but Raoul had recently started to drink quite heavily due to some unknown reason. He had been becoming increasingly violent and aggressive. Leaving the rooftop, Erik travelled as fast as possible through the labyrinth of secret passages to the mirror in Christine's room.

He could hear yelling and pleadings echo down the tunnel. The beer bottle smashed on the dressing table spraying sharp shrapnel everywhere. Erik could feel the rage within him build up as he watched Raoul storm drunkly out of the room. He tried to slide the mirror and he realised that there was a padlock on it. Madame Giry, she must have made sure he couldn't be part of her life anymore. He shook the mirror in frustration, there was no way into her room. The only thing he could do was watch.

He watched as his beloved Christine picked herself up from the floor, a red mark in a shape of a hand had begun to form on her angelic face. Tears were rolling down her cheek as she began to clean up the mess. Suddenly a shadow appeared at the door, it was the new stagehand. Surprised, Erik automatically moved away from the mirror, hoping that he didn't see anything. Christine looked up, surprised and nervous at the stranger at her door.

"I'm not stupid, I recognise your voice from last night. You're obviously very good at singing" the stranger said looking slightly amused. "Apparently the Viscount is your husband, very interesting..."

The rude smugness was clearly there in his voice, no sympathy or comfort at all.

"Azrael, not yet, I will tell you when" Christine replied choking on her tears.

"This is obviously one of those love gone wrong situations isn't it." Azrael said closing the door. "Very interesting..."

The insolent youth was really getting on Erik's nerves. Christine sighed and said no more, she continued to clean up the mess until she gasped in pain. Erik stared in horror as her beautiful hands were splintered by the glass.

Azrael rolled his eye and drew a small knife which was hidden inside his sleeve. Christine automatically shrank away from him, wide-eyed and scarred "What are you doing?"

"Splinters?" Azrael asked, nodding at her hands.

Christine nervously stretched out her hands. Azrael skillfully removed the glass splinters using the tip of the small knife and wordlessly cleaned up the mess on the floor.

"I didn't come here to be your cleaner. I came to warn you. Don't leave the opera tonight" Azrael ordered. "It's dangerous at night, in the streets"

"I have to return home, otherwise my husband..." Christine trailed off, looking very nervous at the thought of one of Raoul's temper tantrums

"Well you'd listen to me if you want to live for another day"

"Why do you care if I live or die?"

"You can't pay me if you're dead..."

"But I have to or else...you can walk me home!"

"Fine if I have to!" Azrael stopped suddenly and turned around, staring right at Erik. "Is someone behind that mirror?"

'Oh Bugger', Erik thought, quickly shrinking even further back.

"No, of course not, don't be insane!" Christine replied, quickly pushing Azrael out the door.

"Hmmm, very interesting" Azrael muttered. "Probably the phantom of the opera"

"Could you stop saying that please" Christine looked back at the mirror nervously, before leaving the Opera house with the mysterious young man.

Erik was confused and nervous. What is going on? Who was Azrael? How did he know Christine? Why does Christine have to pay him? Why is Christine in danger? Pondering over these questions, Erik walked through the labyrinth, keen to return to his lair.

Shortly after Azrael and Christine left, a bloodcurdling scream rang out through the night. It was a male voice but fear was clearly evident. It was close to the Opera, perhaps just outside. He heard the maniacal laugh of triumph as the killer savoured the agony felt by the victim. Erik shuddered at the spine-chilling sounds. The screams continued for an agonisingly long time. Then slowly and painfully died down to a horrible silence. Erik, paralyzed from shock, slowly recovered his movement and continued his way to his lair. That Azrael knew something about this, he knows something about the killer. The screams of the victim still echoed in Erik's mind and that night haunted him in his nightmares.

**Please review! **


	3. Nameless

**Usual Disclaimer- I do not own Phantom of the Opera or the characters in it. Except for my own OCs. Sorry for the wait, but I lost my plan so I had to improvise this chapter. Enjoy!**

**Nameless**

The sky was a dusty blue, with rays of orange-red seeping through the clouds like blood from a wound. The air smelt metallic like a coin, but Amelia knew that smell too well, she dealt with it often, the smell of blood. She eyed the body on the stretcher covered with dry blood. The eyes were lifeless and frozen with terror and the face mutilated beyond recognition. A sheet was quickly placed over it, the policeman apologised for allowing a 'lady' to see such horrific crime scene. Amelia rolled her eyes, she was used to dead bodies, unlike the dim-witted idiot in front her who obviously was squeamish to blood.

She was a doctor, a healer, young but experienced enough to save some lives. For more difficult procedures, she brought the patients to her father who had decades of experience. She had been called in early to check up on a patient, at the Opera Populaire, the Prima Donna to be exact. Amelia stopped suddenly, something had just registered in her mind, she had seen those injuries before.

_The sky was black, like ink, there was no moon, no stars, nothing ;just total darkness. It was the stroke of midnight yet the young girl Amelia was still up with her father treating a patient. Amelia had seen him staggering from the darkness and she knew something was wrong. He smelt of metal, of blood, they can see it trickling down his face and arms. Amelia and her father simultaneously gasped, how was it humanly possible to do this to someone else? The left side of the boy's face was lacerated with knife wounds in a pattern of what seemed to be like veins. What really surprised them both was the boy's left eye was red and his right eye was black. _

The Prima Donna's dressing room came up in sight, Amelia reached out to open the door, when it suddenly opened and a blurred shadow dashed out, crashing right into Amelia.

"Watch where you're going?" Amelia yelled, swatting him away like a fly. The young man quickly apologised before darting off again. Amelia froze..._The eyepatch, Can it be? _She turned around quickly hoping to catch a glimpse but he had already gone.

Remembering her purpose, Amelia picked up her belongings and walked back into the Christine's room. The diva didn't look well, she was paler and sicklier, she had dark circles under her eyes from the lack of sleep and her delicate hands were covered in bruises.

"Christine? How are you feeling?" Amelia asked.

"Oh you're here, Madame Giry must have called you. I'm fine just..." Tears trickled down her face.

"It'll be alright, I promise you." comforted Amelia. "You have a performance tonight, so relax and just enjoy it."

"You don't understand..." Christine said in a small voice "Its complicated."

Unsure how to respond, Amelia quickly changed the topic. "By the way, who was that in your room before, the guy who walked into me?"

Christine wiped her tears "He's the new stagehand"

"What's his name"? Amelia sighed "Doesn't matter, that was five years ago, and I don't know his name ...anyways he reminds me of a patient I once treated. "

"He's name is Azrael ...it's a strange name but he reminded me of someone too" Christine too sighing with Amelia.

* * *

Azrael swore he was hallucinating. He was so sleepy, changing from his normal nocturnal sleeping cycles was hard. He was also starving, he hadn't eaten anything for so long; apart from the two apples he stole from some random stagehand. He was so sure, that he saw her. Stopping the urge to go back, he continued his way to his post ,still thinking about her; the girl who lit up the darkness.

* * *

The sky was a cacophony of colours, like an opal. People in their best evening gowns and suits flooded into Opera Populaire. The first opera since the restoration was about to begin. Erik watched as the seats slowly filled up, Box 5 was left empty like he instructed but this performance he would not be watching from the hidden compartment in Box 5. He had other things to attend to. He noticed the other boxes were full, the Noiret family was here. They were a very well respected family. Madame and Monsieur Noiret had two lovely children, Vincent who was now a young man and Adele still just a girl. It was known that they did have a third child. A son who was younger than Vincent but older than Adele. When the child was five, he died from a rare disease, thus the large difference of age between Vincent and Adele. However the name of the child was never known, it seemed too cruel to bring it up again. When they didn't show up, a month after the incident, gossip started spreading like wild fire, so quick that even Erik knew.

The torches at the bottom of the stage were being lit, the lights dimmed and the muttering slowly died away. The orchestra began to play the overture and then the crimson curtains opened.

* * *

At his post above the stage, Azrael took off his eye patch, letting the light sensitive red eye slowly regain its vision. He could see the entire audience from here, he search around for _her _but she was not there. Up in the boxes, he did single out a familiar face, a family of familiar faces. A middle aged woman wearing a dull red evening gown seated next to a middled aged man wearing a black suit. _Red and Black. _A young man in a similar black suit with _a _young girl in a ruby dreses. _Red and Black. _The Noiret Family were back.

Azrael fumed, _Red and Black_ the two colours which ruined his life. He knew the truth about the Noiret family, he knew the horrible truth which they have kept hidden for fifteen years. With his red eye burning with rage and his black eye fueled with hatred, he glared at them...the mother who left him nameless, the father who abandoned him, the brother who despised him and the sister who didn't even know he existed.

**Please review! Just click that awesome button below and review!**


	4. Angel Voices and Demon Eyes

**The Usual Disclaimer and copyrights. I'm sorry for the long wait but i finally found the document in my mess of documents. Also its exam and assignment season. Enjoy! **

**Angel voices and demon eyes**

The sky was smoky black bruised with a heavy purple shadows. The overture was playing, singers were ready to begin. Christine frantically applied concealer make up over the slap mark on her face. Her moment on stage was minutes door opened and Raoul stepped into the room. All the make-up and costume helpers quickly left, not wanting to disturb the couple.

"People will be expecting to see 'the happy couple' so you better put on a good show" he threatened, the smile on his face quickly disappearing.

"I'll keep that in mind" Christine looked sadly at her husband. How did they come to this? That night, where they both sailed off in that gondola, they were so happy and in love as they naively thought. She chose him and yet it has come down to this. Deep down in her heart, there were feelings for someone else and Raoul knew. Since that moment he watched her kiss the phantom, he had always known. There is no chance they can divorce, not with the public watching their every move. They had tried to reason and overcome this adversity until Raoul started to drink. That's when all the problems began.

"You'd better or you won't be here for very long" he said having one last threat to his wife before slamming the door shut.

"And neither will you..." Christine muttered under her breath. Madame Giry and Meg appeared later at the door, it was time.

* * *

Erik watched her quietly from above the stage. Her voice travelled across the newly built opera, bringing it to life. Her melodious and angelic voice of hers, captivating everyone in the audience Erik smiled at the heavenly sound, his student had come so far, he was proud of her. She seemed happy, and for her happiness Erik would leave her alone even if it kills him. Still with all the events happening, he couldn't just leave her unguarded, he hovered over her like a guardian angel just incase, she needed him. _Just in case_ He watched entranced her as she held the last note to its full value and the audience erupted into an applause. Erik automatically joined them, clapping enthusiastically. Christine bowed elegantly and smile sweetly at the audience before going backstage preparing for her next act. Erik continued smiling in his trance-like state, it was a relief to finally hear real music after all this time.

"Demon!" someone screamed. "The cursed Devil is upon us!" The rough scream brought Erik back to reality.

"Damn it!" Erik thought. He let himself be carried away by the sound of Christine's voice and the music, he had completely forgot that he was visible to everyone.

He could hear the foot-steps and the frightened gasps of air. The sounds were however coming towards him. What? It's not me this time?" Erik thought strangely. "Who else could it be?" Erik moved to hide from the man's sight but too late, he had seen the opera ghost and opened his mouth to yell for help. His scream for help stopped mid way as he was hit hard across his head. The stagehand slumped helplessly to the ground, unconsciousness.

Erik turned to see what had hit the man. His eyes met the gaze unbalanced gaze of Azrael. The left side of his face was disfigured with scars as if someone carved it with a knife No wonder, the man screamed "Demon". His eyes were that of a demons; merciless, deadly, insane and soulless

"I knew someone was spying on me" the young man said as if nothing had happened. "Who are you and what do you want?"

Erik eyed the unconscious man on the ground. He hadn't moved at all, and Erik was fearing the worst.

"He's not dead, he'll wake up in a couple hours time" Azrael said as if reading Erik's mind. "Now answer my question"

"That is exactly what I want to ask you," Erik answered after finally finding his voice. "What do you want with Christine?"

"I'm pretty sure you know my name and other various information after spying on me from the mirror and regarding Christine, some things are best when left untold. Don't worry, she married and I have no interest in her but business. Why do you care about her anyways?"

"Because I ..." Erik trailed off. He couldn't just say it, not in front of Azrael. Luckily for him, Azrael didn't press on.

"You know her husband?" Azrael asked.

"Yes I know... Raoul" Erik replied in a small voice.

"You're the first to call him Raoul instead of Viscount de whatever his last name is...interesting" Azrael said in his annoyingly smug voice. "Where is he?"

"Why do you need to know?"

"Because the sooner I find him, the faster I can get out of here." Azrael replied. "This opera has way too many people for my liking. People treat me as an outsider. You know? I'll be out of here before you know it"

Reluctantly, Erik's eyes scanned the audience and spotted Raoul who had perched himself in Box 5. Erik glared at the figure, how many times did he have to make it clear that Box 5 was to be left empty? That idiot was never going stop hating him. He pointed at the arrogant figure in the Box. "That's him"

"Ah, so he's the guy I saw yesterday. He's ...interesting"

Erik could not look away from those eyes. After examining them, he could see something else behind Azrael's eyes. Hidden behind the surface of hatred and malice, beyond the burning fire and ominous ink was a look of pain and loneliness that once reflected in Erik's own eyes and maybe is still there.

The act on stage finally ended and curtains closed for the interval. Azrael hurriedly put on his eye-patch as more people appeared backstage.

"You better go before someone finds out you're here" Azrael warned. "Nice chatting to you Opera Ghost, but I've got to run. Places to be and people to avoid."

With that, Azrael dashed off, merging with the shadows of the curtains. Finally released from Azrael's gaze, Erik went his own way, tempted to leave a rose for Christine.

**Apologies if this chapter is a bit strange. Please review! **


	5. Dreams and Nightmares

**I apologise for my bad punctuation and grammar *hails spellcheck* To angelofdeath8254, I uphold my side of This chapter is mainly about OCs. Warning: violent scenes. **

**Dreams and Nightmares **

It was the best night of Amelia's life, it was as if she was in a dream. During the interval, Vincent Noiret had approached her; he even asked her to sit with him with the rest of his family in their private box. She had received so many death glares from the other 'lovely' young ladies as the most eligible bachelor showed his interest in her. Only she was called in an "emergency" which just completely ruined her beautiful evening. At least Vincent promised they'll meet again.

"Where is he?" demanded Amelia trying to control her temper.

The backstage crew simultaneously pointed into the corner. The unconscious man had be laid out on the floor unattended. A bruise had formed on the side of his head.

"It should be nothing more than concussion" a voice behind her whispered.

"GAH!" Amelia jumped in fright. She turned around and glared at the figure. Out of all the people in the world, it just had to be Azrael.

He stared at her with surprised expression. "Amelia?" he asked. "It is you!"

Amelia froze._ He knew her name. It has to be him. The eyepatch, the scars...what if it's not? Well there's only one way to find out. _Amelia ripped the eye-patch off in the blink of an eye. A red eye full of surprise stared back at her. Surprise turned into annoyance as he snatched it back.

Amelia's first instinct was to bombard him with the millions of questions he left unanswered but the approaching figures convinced her to resume her work. She knelt down beside her patient, there wasn't much she could do except confirm it was a concussion. The backstage crew quickly moved him into another room and everything continued as it was.

"You're the first person to take me by surprise" said Azrael amusingly.

"You left me no choice. You didn't tell me anything. Your name?" Amelia hissed back

"Sorry, didn't have time to mention it, five years ago. You freaked out, you father freaked out and I was kind of in pain and also unconscious"

"You also left without saying goodbye. A note doesn't explain anything. You had my father and I worried over you for weeks. You just disappear with an injury like that!" Amelia said accusingly.

"Fine, I'm sorry"

"That's your apology? What about reasons? I have the right to know" Amelia demanded.

"It's better you don't know" he replied. "Just forget it ok?"

Amelia sighed, there was no way he was going to tell her anything. Something about those eyes just told her he wasn't going to willing give up his secrets.

"Where you with the Noirets just then?" he asked.

"Yes, I was" Amelia said with a dreamy look on her face. "Vincent invited me, something wrong with that?" She could swear that Azrael's eye just twitched at the mention of Vincent.

"Finally got a boyfriend I see?" he said. "About time"

"Hey! What about you? I don't see your girlfriend anywhere' Amelia retaliated with an evil grin.

"As if any female can stand with me for a minute" he replied. "I already scare them off without having to do anything and they haven't even seen my face."

"I'm still here. Aren't I?" Amelia pointed out.

"You're an exception." he assured. "Like taking me by surprise"

"Really?" Amelia thought about for a while. "What about that guy who scarred..." She stopped, wishing she could take back her words.

"Nah" Azrael replied showing no anger just an amused look. "I knew it was coming just couldn't avoid it."

"I'm sorry"

"Don't be."

The back-stage area was almost empty. The opera had ended and all the performers rushed for ending applause.

"You should go back. They might think I kidnapped you" Azrael said.

"As if you could!" Amelia laughed. "I should get going. So I'll see you later?"

"Yeah, I'm here most of the time" Azrael said smiling genuinely.

Amelia gave him one last smile before heading off in the direction of the Noiret box. The opera house was a labyrinth. She turned around to ask Azrael for help but he had vanished. Unwilling to search around aimlessly for him, she continued along the dim corridor. The unknown source of light created ghostly shadows along the wall. In the tunnel of darkness, there was light. Amelia ran towards it, glad to be finally out of the maze. She opened the door and walked straight into the Prima Donna's dressing room. _Strange. _There was someone else in the room.

The stranger had a handsome face, the face of an angelic. With a hazelnut colour haired and a dazzling smile, Amelia couldn't help smiling at him. She paused at the eyes, they were a similar chocolate brown to Raoul's but a murderous glint reflected in his.

"You're a doctor aren't you?" He asked giving her a smile that made her uncomfortable. Without warning, he attacked her, knocking her to the ground. She felt strong fingers pressing on the base of her neck and everything turned black.

* * *

Amelia woke with a pounding headache. She was lying on the hard cold stone floor of what seemed to one of those dungeons in horror stories. Propping herself up, she examined her environment. There was no sign of her attacker. She wasn't alone though. Hiding in the corner were seven small children, staring at her through frightened eyes and all trembling in fear.

"What's wrong?" she asked, approaching them. The children said nothing but all stay wide eyed at her. A girl around the age of fourteen pointed to the other side of the room. Amelia followed her hand and turned. A scream pierced through the room, echoing off the stone walls, with horror Amelia realised it was hers.

A body lay on floor, in a puddle of blood. The lifeless gray eyes reflected the overall terrified expression of the corpse. The mouth opened in a silent scream that still seem to echo in the room. The face was mangled as if someone scribbled on the flesh with a knife. The twisted murderer had torture him by disfiguring his face beyond recognition before slitting the jugular releasing a river of blood. The knife lay discarded next to the body. The blood still glistening on the tip and along the cruel blade. Amelia prayed that those children had not witnessed the horrifying events but deep in her heart, she knew they had seem the whole thing.

The girl approached her and asked in a quiet voice. "He had an argument with Abbadon. No one can stop him, unless they want to share the same fate."

"Azrael wasn't here. If only he were here, he would protect us. He's the only who survived..." the girl seemed to be talking to herself as she gazed into the air. Amelia latched onto that single name. _Azrael. He knows something about this. He had always known. _

"Master made Abbadon find a new doctor" she continued. "No one has been punished today so we're all quite lucky except for..." She stopped suddenly at the sound of an opening door. She whimpered and joined the other children in the corner.

Amelia turned around and Abbadon; the demon with the face of an angel. He knelt beside the body and inspected it proudly as if it was an artwork.

"I think one artwork isn't enough for tonight" he said in a menacing voice. He cleaned on the bloody knife with his shirt and without warning lunged at Amelia. She spun quickly to dodge his attack but felt the cruel cold blade bite into her arm. The pain shot up her arm as the warm blood starting to seep from the cut. Amelia bit back her scream, she would not have this crazy murderer have the satisfaction of hearing her scream.

He let out a maniacal laugh again and lunged for another stab. This time Amelia was ready, her self-defense lessons resurfaced in her mind as she grabbed his arm. Hoping to redirect the hand away from her, she failed as his stone hard arm continued to move towards her face. Inch by inch, the knife came closer until Amelia can see her frightened reflection in the blade. Abbadon smiled, he was a predator playing with his prey, hoping to keep it alive longer to watch it suffer. Resorting to her last option, Amelia bit down hard on his arm until she could taste the blood. Abbadon cried out in anguish and relaxed his grip, giving Amelia enough time to take the knife.

It felt cold and foreign in her grip, but she grasped it as if it was a lifeline. Abaddon snarled angrily and approached ready to strangle the life out of her. This time, she let out a scream and threw the blade at him. The knife somersaulted throw the air like a missile and managed to to deliver a small cut on Abaddon's angelic face. Amelia didn't wait to see if she managed to hit him. Forgetting about her headache and her arm, she bolted out the still opened door and ran for her life. Surprisingly there were no footsteps behind her but she didn't dare turn around to check, fearing if that face was there behind her. Up ahead she could see a church, the bright lights beckoned for her to come. She almost screamed with relief as she bursted through the doors, interrupting the priest's speech. She ran to the altar and kneeled at the cross and prayed that the demon would never return again.

He will return though in her darkest nightmares. She changed her mind about tonight, it was the worst night of Amelia's life.

**Review Please! I'm sorry I didn't include the PotO characters but I had to do something with my OCs. **


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